


Death

by luceskywalker



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: #30: Death, 100 Themes Challenge, Angst, Character Death, Elrond/Ereinion, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, One Shot, War of the Ring, keeping calm and carrying on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:50:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luceskywalker/pseuds/luceskywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Elrond caught Ereinion's face between his hands, forcing the King to look at him.  "No matter what happens, no matter how pointless it seems and how many men we lose, you have to keep going. You have to keep fighting back. Promise me that no matter how hopeless things get, no matter who you lose, you will keep fighting. That you will win, for everyone who didn't make it. Promise me."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>SA 3437 and 3441. Two deaths break two elves, but no matter how much it hurts, the fight must go on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death

**Author's Note:**

> Cariel is mine and Arrey belongs to my friend Joanna. I just steal him for parties and angstfics.
> 
> Everyone else belongs to Tolkien.

* * *

_SA 3437_

Elrond tied off the bandage and smiled reassuringly at the young elf lying prone on the pallet in front of him, murmuring assurances that he was no longer in danger of losing his arm. The youth nodded gratefully and closed his eyes, unable to fight his exhaustion any longer. Elrond had no sooner stood up and turned to move to the next patient when he felt someone grip his arm tightly and turn him around with so much force that he nearly collided with his assailant's chest.

"I need to speak to you," Ereinion said, his voice low and tightly controlled. Elrond turned his head and glanced at Cariel, who motioned for him to go. There had been more deaths than injuries during that day's battle and so the healing tent was relatively quiet. She was more than able to cover for him for a few minutes. Elrond was about to say 'Alright, let's go', when the King, who had watched the exchange, all but dragged him out of the healing tent before Elrond could even open his mouth. As soon as they were outside in a small alleyway between the tents and away from prying eyes, Ereinion let go of Elrond's arm and looked at his face, registering the unimpressed look he was getting.

" _Ow._ " Elrond stated, rubbing his arm. "You didn't need to grab me so hard, I was planning to come quietly."

His slight joke was lost on the King, and Elrond stepped forward when Ereinion sighed, all of his previous tension and anger draining out of him.

"What's the matter?" the half-elf softly enquired, placing a hand on Ereinion's chest and feeling one of the panels of his armour shift slightly out of place under his touch. Distracted, he frowned and tugged at the panel, which easily moved out of the way to display a long, bleeding gash. "You're hurt!"

"It's just a scratch," Ereinion protested, trying to move out of the way. Elrond held him firm.

"Last time you said that you were missing a chunk out of your thigh," the healer admonished. "Let me look at it."

"I'm fine-"

" _Let me look at it._ "

The King relented and held still as Elrond gently probed the broken skin. Satisfied that it was not life-threatening, he moved the damaged panel back into place. 

"It's long, but it's not deep. You won't even need stiches, just a bandage." He was about to repeat his earlier question when Ereinion wrapped his arms around his lover and pulled him close, burying his face in Elrond's neck. Elrond returned the embrace and waited, knowing that the reason for Ereinion's upset would be forthcoming. He was right.

"Arrey is dead."

Elrond's heart sank and he held the King tighter. He felt the small tremors running through Ereinion's body, and the tears that wet the material at his shoulder as tears pricked at his own eyes. He did not say anything; there was nothing he could say. Words of comfort, vainly spoken, tasted as bad as the Mordor air. Elrond just rubbed Ereinion's back and offered his silent support. Not only was Arrey a skilled fighter and magnificent strategist, he and Celebrimbor had been the closest Ereinion had ever come to having brothers. 

"Everything just seems so hopeless now," Ereinion whispered. "I can't win this without him."

Elrond pulled back from the hug and caught Ereinion's face between his hands, forcing the King to look at him. 

"Yes you can." When Ereinion went to shake his head Elrond held it in place. "Yes you can," he repeated. "You can because you _must_. I know how much he meant to you and I understand that you're upset now he's gone but this is war and death is inevitable."

Ereinion's eyes widened in outrage, but Elrond cut him off. "No, listen to me. I'm not being callous. People die in war and of course it's sad but you can't just give up because of that. I'm not saying that you can't mourn for him, just that you can't do it _now_. No matter what happens, no matter how pointless it seems and how many men we lose, you have to keep going. You have to keep fighting back. Promise me that no matter how hopeless things get, no matter who you lose-"

"Elrond, don't tell me that you mean yourself-"

"No matter _who_ you lose, promise you will keep fighting. That you will win, for everyone who didn't make it. Promise me."

Ereinion nodded. "I promise."

Elrond pulled the King's face down so he could press their lips together. "No one is more important than victory. Not even you. Or me. Arrey wouldn't want you to give up now. We're so close," he whispered when they broke apart.

"I know," Ereinion replied, and Elrond knew that that applied to everything he had just said. "Do you have much more to do here?"

Elrond shook his head. "Not very much. Go back to our tent, and I'll be there in a minute to bandage this for you," he pressed his hand lightly over Ereinion's injury. The King pulled him close and they kissed once more.

"I love you," Ereinion murmured.

"I love you too," Elrond replied, and stepped out of the King's embrace. "Go, I'll be there soon."

Ereinion nodded and took a deep breath, pulling himself back together before he walked through the camp. Elrond watched him go, the sense of perpetual foreboding in his mind suddenly stronger. He shook it off and with a sigh walked back into the healing tent.  


* * *

_SA 3441_

"Elrond, you know that no one expects you to do this."

Elrond looked up at his visitor. "If I do not do this, Glorfindel," he said levelly, "who will?"

Glorfindel could not answer. He watched as Elrond finished polishing Ereinion's bracers and slid them on. He stood to tie on his sword and knives, and turned to Glorfindel. For all intents and purposes he was the High King now, although Glorfindel knew that he would not take the crown if and when he returned. Where Elrond was concerned, Ereinion would always be the King; he could only ever be a steward. But standing in front of Glorfindel now, after seven years of hard battle, dressed all in black except for his gleaming gold armour, he certainly looked like a King. Which, Glorfindel supposed, was Elrond's design.

"Speak, Glorfindel. I would have all things said between us." Elrond moved to retrieve his blue cloak from the hook by the tent flap and faced his friend as he put it on.

"The men would understand if you were not up to it-"

"I am a warrior, Glorfindel. This is a war. I do not have the luxury of 'not being up to it'." Elrond's cold expression and tone gave out and he sighed. "When Arrey died I told Ereinion that no one, not even him or me, was more important than victory. Now more than ever, I have to uphold that. Sauron wanted Ereinion's death to break us, and I will not give him that satisfaction. No, I must keep fighting. For Ereinion and for everyone else that we've lost. I owe it to them to win this."

His voice softened. "The men may not mind if I sit this out, but I would never forgive myself. Ereinion would never forgive me."

The blonde elf nodded in understanding, and Elrond grasped the side of the tent flap, preparing to lift it open. He drew himself up - much like Ereinion had done on that one evening so long ago - looked at Glorfindel, and spoke again. "We are the Noldor, Glorfindel. We carry on."

The two friends shared one last glance, then Elrond lifted the tent flap and they stepped outside, ready to claim victory once and for all.


End file.
